


Saudade

by ArchOfImagine



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Commander Rogers, Director of SHIELD Tony Stark, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 04:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19055134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: Tony Stark's soulmate tattoo was photographed without his permission when he was a teenager... which lead to many people deciding they would copy the tattoo in the hopes of making him believe they were soulmates. Which means that maybe Stark is a little jaded about soulmate nonsense.There is absolutely no reason why he should notice that he starts to feel a bit happier around Commander Steve Rogers...





	Saudade

**Author's Note:**

> This was a collaboration effort for the [cap-imrbb](https://cap-ironman.dreamwidth.org/). Included [art](https://cap-ironman.dreamwidth.org/2014837.html) was provided by [moonymages.](https://moonymages.dreamwidth.org/)

**sau·da·de  
/souˈdädə/**

_noun_

The feeling of intense longing for a person or place you love but is now lost. A haunting desire for what is gone.

* * *

49.2 percent of the population had a soulmark somewhere on their body. It usually appeared around the 16th birthday. Somewhere out in the world, someone else would have an identical mark and that meant they were your soulmate. 

Tony Stark was seventeen, home for Christmas and spending his time with some NYU senior instead of his forlorn family, when the kid decided that he wanted photographic proof that he had fucked a Stark. The photo, a shot of Tony laid stretched out on the bed, blanket barely up to his hips, showed the soulmark on his chest perfectly. 

For most people, it would have been no big thing.

For Tony, soon to be the trustee of a billion dollar corporation… it was a _nightmare._

There was a rumor that some small portion of that forty-nine percent, refused to acknowledge the fact that they had a soulmark. Those people didn't want to leave their lives to be dictated by fate, and instead wanted to find love the hard way. Tony had never planned to be one of those cynics. In fact, when he was younger, he was so excited to have a soulmark that sometimes he would stand in the bathroom and trace the thing in the mirror.

It meant, above all else, that someone out there would love him. They _had to_. Fate had chosen his perfect soulmate and all he had to do was be patient.

Well… fate was a cranky bitch who could go to hell.

* * *

He met his first _soulmate_ on his twenty-first birthday. Meredith was pretty and sweet and didn’t even immediately bring up the soulmate tattoo. But she was around a lot, and though dating seemed to happen naturally… Tony second-guessed that a lot once he knew the outcome. Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

The first time they slept together, was the first time he saw her tattoo. In the dark of a dorm room it looked perfect and made his heart stutter. _Mine_ , some part of him whispered. 

The nagging voice started a week later when she was getting dressed in his room, talking about how behind she was on payments for her car, trying to figure out how she was going to make it by. It sounded a lot like _sure wish I had a wealthy boyfriend_ and Tony started to notice the flaws in the mark on her chest. A line was missing. Another was off-center and crooked.

Howard Stark probably liked to think he was the reason why Tony and Meredith broke up, but in all honesty… once he confronted her and found out about the faked soulmark, he couldn’t spend another minute with her. 

For the next few years, he focused solely on dating people without soulmarks. Sometimes, if the person didn’t know who he was, he could pretend that he didn’t have a mark either. It wouldn’t last long, of course, but it made for easy enough one-night-stands.

Then his parents died and Tony’s life was too focused on work, to allow for leisure. 

Five years later, Joanna showed up. She was everything that Meredith wasn’t, and he had no problem falling for her. When he saw the mark on her chest, he traced the tattoo in silent awe and a bit of fear. _Please don’t be fake,_ the voice in his head whispered.

He was smitten with her. Six months and he bought a ring. He let her do all of the wedding planning — it really wasn’t his type of thing — and listened every night as she went on and on about how perfect things would be.

Two months before the wedding, Joanna and Tony’s PR people set up everything for an article to be run in a New York wedding magazine. Tony hated magazines, as a general rule, but was in that stage of love where he had a hard time denying Jo anything.

It was about a week after the article ran, that a new report surfaced. Claims that Joanna wasn’t quite the woman she had been saying she was. 

Tony had stared at the television screen in anger and hurt. 

_”Yeah, I did the tattoo for Ms. Nivena. I get a lot of clients in her situation that want to get a tattoo to match the person they’re in love with. Who am I to judge? But then she starts going off about how she is Stark’s destiny? Pretty sure she just wants his money.”_

Saying goodbye to Joanna… well, it made him realize that soulmates were absolute bullshit and he would never let fate decide who he was _supposed_ to love, ever again.

Never.

Again.

From that point forward, Tony kept his relationships strictly tattoo-free. He even, at one point, contemplated getting his own tattoo removed, before ultimately deciding that it would be a waste of effort. If he didn’t believe in the notion, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Commander Rogers sat in the backseat of a sleek black town car, en route from LaGuardia International, to downtown Manhattan. Something about flying commercial, rather than on the private jets of SHIELD, always gave him a headache. But with their funding suddenly drastically cut… well, it didn’t make sense to fly the jet 250 miles, just so he could attend a business meeting with his new boss.

And maybe that whole thing was part of the headache thumping incessantly behind his eyes. He was SHIELD’s second-in-command, and the week prior had been a bit of a shit storm. Their leader had announced his retirement, a few short hours before the new president made his own announcement — that all funding to private military contractors would be cut in half. Which meant SHIELD was suddenly down both a leader and half of its budget.

The only solution had been to go to the son of their founder and hope that the Stark family still wanted to be in the private military contract business. 

Considering the fact that the last few years had seen Stark Industries leave the weapons industry in favor of clean energy… well, Steve wasn’t holding out much hope. And he wasn’t sure what would happen to the hundred people under his command, if he had to be the one to make layoffs. 

If it was anyone other than Tony Stark that he was on his way to see, he would be convinced that he could sway the opinion of the person.

* * *

\--- **Before.** \---

* * *

It was impossible to grow up in New York and not know the Stark name. Howard Stark was constantly in the papers, and when he wasn’t… his son usually was, though in a completely different light. 

Steve had always thought it was cool to be born just a few short months after Tony Stark was. Their lives were so different, but they were connected by that one small thing. Whenever he had a class that he hated in school, he would think to himself _’I bet Tony Stark is also terrible at this’_ and suddenly start to feel better. (This was, of course, ignoring the fact that Tony Stark was a genius and most of the world knew it.)

He was seventeen when the news got out about Tony Stark’s soulmark. He could clearly rememberremember clearly the moment, sitting in the bedroom provided by his newest foster family and watching the news report. 

_Stark Heir Has Soulmark._

That wasn’t the part that Steve cared about. Instead, he was staring at the blurry image of Tony’s soulmark, as his hand reached up to brush over his chest. _Soulmate._ Tony Stark was _his_ soulmate!

It was a bit impulsive, but the next day when he had finished with school, he hopped on a train to Manhattan. Everyone knew where the Stark mansion was, so it really didn’t take much to figure out how to get there. He got off the subway a few blocks away and shouldered his backpack as he started the rest of the journey on foot. 

It was only standing at the gate, that he realized he hadn’t thought too far in advance. What exactly was he supposed to say? _’Oh hey, sorry everyone knows about your soulmark now, but I’m your soulmate?’_ Right.

He pulled the jacket up around his neck, realizing belatedly that he was being an idiot and making weird excursions in the dead of winter.

_Man up, or walk away._

He was about to push the button on the gate, when the large thing started moving… _opening._ What…

A large, fancy town car pulled up next to him. Steve turned to look, hair falling a bit in his face as he watched the black car roll to a stop and the rear window roll down. 

“Are you lost, boy?” Howard Stark wasn’t the type to _lean_ out of a car window, so much as look sternly and expect everyone else to bend to him.

Steve moved forward, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Um, no, sir, Mr. Stark, sir. I’m here to speak to your son.”

“Anthony is currently occupied with his studies, I’m afraid.”

 _”Oh.”_ He was quickly losing his courage. If he went back home at that point… he would never find the strength to make it back. “I’m his soulmate, sir.” He reached up, grabbing a bit of his jacket and shirt so that he could pull it down and show off his matching mark.

“Nonsense, that.” Howard waved him off before the mark was even visible. “ _Soulmates._ Childhood fantasies that too many people put stock in. Starks don’t have soulmates.”

“But, sir—”

“Come around here again, and it’ll be my lawyers meeting you at the gate.” Howard motioned for the driver to pull forward, as he rolled his window back up.

* * *

\--- **Now.** \---

* * *

Steve didn’t like to think about that moment, if he didn’t have to. It hadn’t just been Howard Stark refusing to allow his son a soulmate, he had refused to allow some no-name-kid from Brooklyn to have one as well. It was a slap in the face that had changed most of his future choices when it came to relationships.

It was probably completely his fault that he wasn’t able to fully commit to a relationship. It was like a part of him was always missing, though, and he could never look beyond that.

“Here we are, sir,” the driver said, pulling the car to a stop at the base of Stark Tower.

Steve nodded his thanks, grabbing his duffle bag and throwing it over his shoulder as he climbed out of the car. Normally he would go directly to a hotel to drop his stuff, but since his meeting with Stark was before typical hotel check-in, he was stuck lugging his overnight bag with him.

Thankfully, when he got inside, the secretary took pity on him and offered to store the bag, before giving him directions to the conference room where his meeting would be held. The room was empty when he arrived — not surprising, since he was about twenty minutes early — and he opened up his tablet to go over any necessary emails while he waited.

And waited.

… And _waited._

The next time his eyes went up to the clock on the wall, Stark was officially twenty minutes late. 

Voices started whispering at him. Maybe he was in the wrong room. Maybe Stark _knew_ who he was, and was avoiding him. Maybe Stark wanted nothing to do with SHIELD.

_Fuck._

He was starting to get a bit anxious beneath his uniform, when the door swung open and a sophisticated female walked in, heels clicking as she made her way over to where he sat. “Commander Rogers, I apologize for the delay. I’m Pepper Potts, Mr. Stark’s assistant. He’ll be here shortly… unfortunately, Mr. Stark was delayed by a conference call with our partners in Japan.”

“I—”

Steve was cut off by the door pushing open and none-other-than Tony Stark himself storming in like a hurricane. “Right. Pepper? Where we at? Is this the charity wanting me to sell my soul? Or Hammer wanting another partnership?”

Steve pushed to his feet and stood at attention by force of habit. “Mr. Stark, sir. My name is Commander Steve Rogers and I’m here on behalf of SHIELD.”

Stark looked from Ms. Potts, to Steve, pausing for a moment before looking back to his assistant. “This, again? Haven’t we told Fury to stop sending us weapons requests, yet?”

Ms. Potts held up her hands, before quietly ducking out of the room. Steve took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. “Sir, Director Fury announced his retirement last week, right before the president drastically cut our funding. I’m here on behalf of the entire organization to ask for your help.”

“You mean my _money_ ,” Stark replied, sitting down at the opposite end of the table. When Steve didn’t immediately sit, Stark rolled his eyes. “Come on, Rogers, that stick up your butt will surely be more comfortable if you’re sitting down.”

He finally sat, but didn’t allow himself to relax. Instead, he pulled out the portfolio that had been put together by the SHIELD accounting team, and slid it across the table. “This is where we stand, financially, without the government backing.”

Stark made no move to pick up the folder. “Why should I care?”

“Over a hundred men and women will be out of a job without—”

“Again… _why_ should I care?”

 _Don’t get pissed._ He took a deep breath. “I’m sure you’re aware of SHIELD’s founding history…”

“It was a pet project that my father started in the sixties with my aunt Peggy. A way of controlling intel and weapons research, while also going over data received from overseas during the Cold War.” Stark leaned forward, like he was telling a secret, “They were a bunch of spies pretending to be scientists.”

“Keyword being _were_. Now SHIELD is an organization of combatant scientists. Men and women who have fought overseas and also received a PhD or two.”

Stark huffed, unbelieving. “Right. So I should be calling you _Doctor_ Rogers, instead?”

“I suppose you could if you like.” At Stark’s raised eyebrow, Steve shrugged. “My particular expertise is in linguistics. We have a wide range of skill sets within the organization. Natasha Romanov, the head of weaponry, is a chemical engineering expert. Chemistry experts. Physics. Archaeology. We have it all.”

“Huh.” Stark slowly opened the folder in front of him. “So you want my money. What else?”

“Without Fury, we are no longer controlled by the government and at their beck and call. So, it has been suggested that you might appreciate taking on the roll of Director, moving forward.”

* * *

\--- **Eighteen Months Later.** \---

* * *

“Ready medical!” A garbled voice sounded through the comms. Tony stood in base of operations and watched as the communications techs handled the incoming team. The mission was a difficult one — taking down a large terrorist organization that had rooted in Istanbul. He had sent their best agents, including his second-in-command.

And considering it wasn’t Steve’s voice coming through the comms, like it normally would be, Tony had a bad gut feeling about the need for medical.

Commander Rogers was an enigma wrapped inside a taco. Or, well, maybe a pastry of some sort. Because sometimes he was sweet sugary goodness, and sometimes he was the bitterness of a dark chocolate eclair.

Tony was hungry.

Too bad lunch would be put off until his team was safely landed back at the tower.

“I’ll meet them upstairs,” Tony told the crew, before going to the elevator that would take him directly to the landing pad at the top of the building. 

One of his first initiatives as Director of SHIELD was to move the base of operations to his home turf at Stark Tower. He had too many other projects in the works, to just up and move to D.C. on a whim. Plus… well, he hated Washington. It was a cesspool of douchebags. So now SHIELD took up two floors in the tower and Tony could go from his laboratory to his director duties without much effort on his part.

Ease of access wasn’t the only thing that the move garnered. It also meant spending way too much time in the company of one Commander Steve Rogers. Tony had prided himself on giving up serious relationships after the soulmate bullshit from his younger days; and he really _shouldn’t_ fall for someone who was essentially his employee… but that did nothing to stop him or his feelings and desires.

Was it really his fault if the SHIELD uniforms were particularly good at accentuating an ass?

“They’re here,” one of the medics called, hurrying out onto the landing pad as the back of the jet opened. 

_Shit_ , he thought, as he stepped out and watched a _very_ hurt Steve being loaded onto a gurney. He stepped out of the way, taking only a minute to note the blood soaking a bandage around Steve’s head, as he allowed the medical personnel to take the Commander downstairs. “Romanov.”

“Sir.”

“I want details while we walk.”

* * *

_An explosion,_ was the best explanation that Romanov could provide. They had finished the mission and were gathering at the rally point, waiting for Rogers to meet up with them, when a self-destruct sequence had gone off and destroyed the building. Some other members of the team had gotten a few scrapes and dings, but the Commander had taken the brunt of the damage.

Tony dismissed her to go get cleaned up and checked out, before stepping into the observation room to see how the doctor’s were handling Steve’s wounds. 

Since the medical floor used to be part of the development labs for SI, a lot of the rooms had large windows to allow for viewing of experiments from a distance. Tony had kept them in tact, figuring that it allowed him and other worried members of the team to keep a close eye on the injured, without getting in the way of the medical staff. And since they weren’t handling the medical needs of the public, they didn’t have to worry about privacy and HIPAA issues. 

They had Steve’s neck in a brace and were currently working to cut away his ripped and torn uniform. 

Tony got distracted suddenly by a flash of color on Rogers’ chest. He hadn’t been aware of the Commander having any tattoos. Out of curiosity — and to avoid looking at the bloody, messy wounds that were being uncovered — Tony looked to one of the camera monitors and fiddled with the controls to get a better view of the tattoo.

A hand reached up on it’s own accord and scratched at the identical tattoo on Tony’s chest. _Impossible,_ he thought, then laughed. Maybe it had been a back up plan. If Steve couldn’t convince Tony to get on board with the SHIELD stuff, he could whip out a fake tattoo and start the whole _’but we’re soulmates!’_ bullshit. Now he was stuck with a tattoo.

Served him right.

Tony ignored the ache in his chest and focused back on making sure his second-in-command survived the night.

* * *

Rogers was out for forty-eight hours. The doctors warned Tony that the head trauma was pretty severe, and they wouldn’t know the full extent of damage until he woke up. 

When that finally happened, Tony was in the war room listening to the analyst data on their next operation. Bravo team was set to fly out in twenty-four hours to help protect a Wakandan representative in Europe for UN council meetings. It was low-ball stuff, playing the protection game, but Tony’s main efforts as director was to make sure they weren’t focused solely on hurting people. He even had a team of scientists stationed in Africa to help with water and food conservation efforts. 

“Romanov,” he turned to his left, where the woman sat with one eyebrow arched. “I want you to be the interim second, until we know Rogers’ status. Run point on this, while keeping the communications with Charlie and Delta teams open, clear?” She nodded, a woman of very few words, like always. “Good.” He turned back to the table at large, “the rest of you, maintain twelve hour check-ins while overseas. We don’t want to be surprised by fallout from Alpha team’s last mission.”

It was right about then that he received an alert on his phone in regards to Commander Rogers’ condition. He dismissed the agents and quickly made his way to the med level, where the doctor was waiting for him outside of his patient’s room. 

“What’s the status, doc?”

“Well, as we discussed yesterday, there is some memory loss. Our team hopes that it’ll be temporary, once the swelling goes down, but we will have a plan in place in case it’s not. He exhibits most cognitive function, though, which is a good sign. Right now it’s mostly a waiting game.”

* * *

Rogers spent the first day back with the land of the living… in and out of sleep. According to the doctor, he was still on quite a few pain meds, that would keep him drowsy. Even still, Tony felt it was only right — since he was the _Director_ — to keep a vigilant watch on the man. Romanov was available, should any immediate SHIELD crisis pop up. If it was something _she_ couldn’t handle, then the world was ending and not even Tony Stark would be able to help.

He was probably doing his own version of sleeping (whatever version was possible, while upright in an uncomfortable chair), when he heard a confused voice ask, “Who are you?”

Tony blinked, looking over to the other man. He had consistently thought that Steve Rogers was one of the strongest men he’d ever met — just being around him showed that without a doubt. But the man laying in that bed looked so small and weak. “Tony.”

“Oh.”

“I’m—”

“Special to me, right?”

That gave him pause. He reached up almost immediately to rub at the spot on his chest, but knew that it couldn’t possibly be what Steve meant. “Yeah. I’m your boss.”

Another soft, “Oh,” was the only reply.

* * *

The problem with guarding against any soulmate potential… was it started to change the way your brain reacted chemically, to others. Tony had avoided anything and everything to do with the term ‘soulmate’ after his break up with Joanna. Which included all of the research done in the 90’s about how soulmates actually created a large release of dopamine in the brain, when they were in each other’s general vicinity. 

Tony knew none of that, and because of such… well, he didn’t recognize that it made him feel better being near Steve. He generally brushed off his happy mood (the one he got around his Commander) as being attributed to the fact that Commander Rogers was hot and hit about all of the check marks on Tony’s ‘must have’ list, when it came to partners.

He also never recognized that when he wasn’t around Steve, suddenly he was a little moodier and had a harder time sleeping. A fact that became quickly apparent when the Bravo team in Vienna called for his assistance. 

_’Can Romanov handle it?’_

_’They’ve requested you, specifically, sir.’_

He was gone for a week, and miserable the entire time. He started to notice his mood was becoming a problem, when his team started avoiding him and ducking their heads if they had to speak to him. He got the delegation from Wakanda safely home, before catching his own jet back to New York. He couldn’t sleep — had barely slept at all the entire trip, so he spent the red-eye flight catching up on paperwork.

When he arrived back at the tower, Romanov cornered him immediately. “We have a problem.”

“Tell me about it. I just spent a week babysitting an African king, because he didn’t trust my team. I want to—”

“ _No._ ”

They were already on the elevator, and Tony turned to look at her in shock. Did she just… “No?” Tony Stark was not used to being told no.

“All of that can be tabled for a later discussion. We need to address the issue with Steve.”

It was probably bad form, but Tony hadn’t kept up on updates about his second’s condition, apart from learning that the man had been moved to a guest suite. “Is he worse? Why didn’t they tell me?”

Natasha reached out, slamming her hand onto the ‘stop’ button and causing the elevator to jolt and stop moving. “Director Stark, I hope you are aware that when you took over for Fury I did my research on you. I wasn’t going to offer my services to someone that I couldn’t trust.”

“Makes sense.”

“Between that fact, and the years I’ve spent accompanying Rogers on missions, I am probably one of the very few people that knows the truth.” When Tony didn’t immediately reply, Romanov stepped forward and tapped a finger against his chest, right where the tattoo laid, beneath his high-dollar shirt. “I’m sure that having multiple people pretend to be your soulmate, only for you to find out the truth… was _difficult._ And I’m positive that Steve would have continued on without ever saying a word — he’s got a martyr complex, after all — but his health is at risk and you need to stop being an idiot.”

Tony guffawed, ignoring the bigger picture long enough to argue, “I’m one of the smartest men in—”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve all heard it. Genius or not, Steve is now suffering from Faux Grief Syndrome, because of you. While he’s been fighting to get his memories back, something else has felt lost to the point that he’s shutting down emotionally.”

Tony looked down and mumbled, “I thought it wasn’t real.”

* * *

Most of the SHIELD personnel had their own apartments and homes throughout the city, but there were a few apartments and dorms available for people working long hours and too tired to make it home. 

Steve had been moved to one of the larger apartments, so that the doctor’s could still keep an eye on him, without watching him minute-to-minute.

Tony spent about an hour sitting in the quiet of his office, before he finally worked up the nerve to make his way upstairs and knock on Steve’s door. The man that answered looked like a haggard shell of the person Tony was used to seeing. His hair was a mess, he had a shadow of a beard starting to grow, and he was wearing his SHIELD uniform… though it was a wrinkled mess, as if he had been sleeping in it.

“Stark.”

He frowned, taking up residence in the doorway. “You remember?”

“Some. Names. How to tie my shoes. I can’t tell you where I grew up or how long I’ve worked for SHIELD. Dates are harder.” Steve turned away. “I’m fine though, thanks for checking, Director.”

Tony watched him walk away and knew that he had _one shot_ to get things right. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he was already starting to feel more settled, being around Steve. He stepped forward, let the door swing shut, and said, “ _Steve._ ” 

It took a beat, but when Steve finally turned around to face him, Tony reached up to grab the neck of his shirt and pull it down. The tattoo was there, as it always had been. The thing Tony had always hated most about himself.

Steve stared at the colors on Tony's chest, his own hand itching at the identical mark under his clothes. "I remember that too. I went to your house once. Don't remember when or how old I was. Your dad saw me and threatened that if I ever came back, it wouldn't be pretty."

"Fucking Howard. Ask me if I'm surprised, Steve." He shook his head. "Listen… I don't know how to do this. I've hated this damn tattoo since the last time someone faked it and was going to marry me based on a lie."

"Not everyone is terrible, Tony."

"I get that. But you have to… you have to work with me here. Give me time to adjust to all of this." He scraped a hand over his face. "Fuck. I'm still your damn boss. And how is the public going to react if I say I've met _another_ soulmate? I hate this."

"So ignore it. We can go back to how things were. It was working just fine."

"Was it, though? Because I've been getting gradually more depressed since I met you."

"Like your soul wants something it's lost," Steve answered, eyes on the floor.

Putting it in words definitely made it seem more real. That was exactly how he had been feeling. “I don’t think we can just jump into this like people normally do when they find their soulmate. I’m shit at relationships, and it would probably be smarter to go slow.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “Let’s do that then. We’ll do something reminiscent of dating, how does that sound? Even if it is something we keep to ourselves, so that SHIELD and the public don’t find out right away. Time spent together, even doing stuff like dinner and a movie, should help with the moods.”

“Okay.”

_”Okay.”_

* * *

Steve had always loved fast and hard. After Howard's brush off in his youth, he had gotten into a few relationships over the years. It wasn't the same, knowing he had a soulmate (and who that person was) but denying himself the real connection of it… Even still, he could, and had, fallen in love before. A few times.

Which is probably how he could recognize immediately that Tony was different. Suddenly it wasn't just a feeling… it was an all encompassing emotion that changed every other part of him. It was like the entire world was suddenly brighter. 

"You're thinking too hard," Tony mumbled against Steve's neck. 

It was early, sun barely cresting over the horizon, but Steve already had energy coursing through him. 

They hadn't spent many nights together yet, despite the five or so months since Tony acknowledged their soulmarks. Neither one of them had felt any need to rush their relationship, and instead were appreciating the small moments. 

But that didn't mean that Steve didn't thoroughly enjoy their evenings together. "Mmm. I was hoping if we woke up early enough there might be time for morning nookie."

"Coffee. Then sexy times."

"You're a little bit spoiled, Director Stark."

Tony, eyes still closed and voice still half asleep, smiled just slightly. "That's okay, you still love me."

And that, maybe, was the best part about nights spent with Tony. Sleepy Tony didn't think twice about what he was saying. Steve kissed his forehead. 

"Yeah, I guess I do."


End file.
